


The Right Thing

by Darkforesttrails



Category: The Blackout Club (Video Game)
Genre: No major trigger warnings here but, Parental death reference, There is a kid who really misses his mom who passed away recently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkforesttrails/pseuds/Darkforesttrails
Summary: The other kids are in the town and Darren Johnson is alone in the boxcar. He has a prayer to send while nobody's around to hear it, but he gets an answer back faster than he expected.





	The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Big shoutout to [Kidskylark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidskylark/pseuds/kidskylark) for being an extra set of eyes!
> 
> [How does one write Speak As One in fanfiction :( ]

"We speak as one."

You sigh as you finish your report, squinting into the dim lights of the boxcar and sitting there for a long while as you collect your thoughts. Your back is starting to hurt. You didn't mention who had brought the bag to the boxcar. Luckily...they never asked. Maybe they already know? You wouldn't be surprised if they already know. They always seem to know. You kind of hate that they always seem to know.

You stare down at your hands, turning them front and back like you're going to find something interesting on them. You have a strong urge to wash them. It won't help. Your gaze falls to the number of sleeping bags scattered around the boxcar. A few of the kids have taken up permanent residence here. Your throat tightens and your breath hitches. You check the time on your phone. Your brother's only been gone for five minutes. Not long enough to be in trouble yet. Still, you can't help the uncomfortable itch that's started deep in your guts. 

Your mother is in the song, wherever that is. Your dad is already working on the instrument. Your brother, however, is a different story. He'd hate this. He'd hate you for this. Every time you do report back to Speak-As-One, you're risking him. He would roll his eyes if he knew you lied about not believing in these so-called gods, but he'd cast you right out if he knew which one you actually chose. Your friends would hate you too, but. 

The thought of having your own flesh and blood just...stare at you with the worst kind of contempt as you get dragged away by a team of angry freshmen dedicated to vigilante justice is what really makes you want to puke. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, covering your face. 

"He won't find out..." You mutter to yourself, your eyes still shut. "He won't find out if you're careful." You repeat that line to yourself over and over for what feels like forever. It's only after your tenth recitation that another thought enters your head. 

_ 'He is not prepared for the truth.' it says. 'He may not forgive, but we will.'_

"Mom?" You whisper, snapping to attention as your heart stops. Is it weird and kind of pathetic that you've started associating every thought in your head with your mom lately? Probably. Some part of you knows that your mom is gone and she isn't coming back. It knows that Speak-As-One's name is literal; whatever part of your mom that might have been there is long dissolved somewhere in the mass of people. But the rest of you just wants to drown that into silence.

_'Your brother cannot run from the truth forever.' _ You feel a weight on your shoulder and you turn to inspect it, only to find it was your own hand. You swallow hard, your lips trembling as you try to speak. Did you do that yourself? You don't know. 

"Mom, is that you?" It isn't. You know it isn't. But you want to believe. 

You sit on your knees and turn around, staring into the mirror as the flame burns. You can barely see your own reflection through your blurring vision, but those waving shadows behind your double are unmistakable. "Please, please talk to me. Mom...!" 

_'Your mother is here with us.'_ Coos the voice as you grip the edges of the ritual table. It's soothing, in a sense. Like a cool, calm wave that's washed over you and taken the tension out of your shoulders. You slowly let go of the table and blow out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

"I...I mean. Uh, he's glad. Can...can he talk to her? Please? He really wants to talk to her." You ask, sniffling and wiping at your eyes as you stare into the mirror. Something is off about your reflection and it's not just because of your eyes. You discard the thought as soon as it comes. That's a problem for future you. 

_'Speak and we all shall hear.'_

"What? Uh..." You cough. Your throat is dry and sticky and it's making your vocal chords feel like they're fusing together. Another cough. 

"Right...um. Mom? ...Hivemind where Mom is right now? I guess I just..." You look down, balling your hands into fists on your knees. You don't feel like bothering with that third person crap anymore. "Someone, anyone, please. Just, just...just tell me I'm doing the right thing! I know I am, but. These are my friends and my brother! Lately, every time I pray and start taking pictures of the other kids, I feel like I'm just shoving them towards the guillotine." Your fingers tremble and your body shakes. Your vision is blurring again and you can't breathe. 

"I know we'll all become one with the song one day and that's what I want, really, but that doesn't make it any easier now, you know?" 

The air is quiet. You can't hear the animals outside anymore. A slight gust blows through the holes in the boxcar and the flame on your lighter flickers ominously in the dark. You're just about ready to give up with the assumption that you've really ticked off Speak As One when another thought rolls through you. 

_'Little Darren has his doubts.'_

_'Fear, worry, doubt. Yet another plague of the Adversary.'_

_'But you desire harmony. So do we.'_

_'In time, your brother will join us as well. He will see it our way.'_

You nod slowly, wiping at your nose as you feel a tear roll down it. 

"I just wish I could make him understand that. He's being influenced by everyone but you, it seems like." You hold up your fingers, counting on them. "He follows the scholar and treats life like some weird puzzle that needs to be put together, he's en-ena-en-" You huff. This is the worst time to forget words. "He really likes a chosen of the Dancer of all people, and he's even been listening to and-get this-agreeing with the half pint rebel who keeps preaching about the greatness of The-Uh. The Adversary. Which is something considering they kind of hate each other!"

_'We know the children of whom he speaks...'_

_'He is right to be concerned. All spread lies and destruction.'_

_'Some more than others.'_

"Exactly! I can't stop him from listening to them, but I can't even explain our point of view to him as long as he is! It's so...frustrating!" You punch at the floor next to the table, your voice cracking. "I'm trying to help, why can't he understand that? 

"He's mad at dad too, you know. Dad works on the medical team and Will says none of them tried hard enough to save our mom and now he and Dad will barely look each other in the eye. And Mom told us to stay together no matter what and I can't...I can't lose Dad and Will too...I just want my family to be together again and...and to feel like a family, that's all. I want my friends to be happy instead of angry and miserable and scared all the time. Why don't any of them want that too? Why do I feel like the only one who cares? Why am I the only one who doesn't want to see anyone else suffering because the stupid fucking word got into their heads?"

_'Calm yourself, child.' _

"Sorry..." You mumble, coughing into your arm. Your body is trembling and the light is burning low. 

_'All your kind suffers from the same affliction. The disease of the self. Misery, sadness, guilt...'_

_'Nothing but fissures and despair. But worry not...all will be calm once more. Soon.' You cough again. _

"And everything really is that great in the song? They'll forgive me when they get to it?" Will your mom forgive you? She has to, right? She's there and she has to know how hard you're trying to carry out her last wishes. Right? _Right?_

_'That is for the voice to judge. However...your thoughts have been noted.'_

"...Thanks, I-he thinks." You take a moment, trying to recompose yourself. You close your eyes, taking in a sharp breath as you pull your phone out of your pocket. Will and Claire have your friends and they're on their way back. Molly has been spitting mad the whole way. Apparently the real enemy of Redacre is loose storm gutters. 

"He should go now." You mutter, your gaze still locked on the phone as you clutch it hard between your fingers. Maybe if you stare at it long enough, you'll have the answer to all your problems on hand. Wouldn't that be the dream. "He has things to do before the others return. The phone will be returned in the morning."

_'Cast away doubts. Embrace the inevitable.'_

_ 'Home awaits. We speak as one.'_

"We speak as one."

Somewhere in the distance, a cord was a pulled and a single note shook the town.


End file.
